An Afternoon on the Playground
by RedPandaPatronus
Summary: Eight-year-old Vernon Dursley was perfectly normal, thank you very much. But there was no kid Vernon hated more than the black haired four-year-old with round glasses he met one afternoon on the playground. That child was a pest, no, a demon.


An Afternoon at the Playground

Eight-year-old Vernon Dursley was perfectly normal, thank you very much. He couldn't stand most kids, with their trickery and their tendency to believe in well…magic. His parents and older sister, Marge, felt much the same way.

But there was no kid Vernon Dursley hated more than the black haired four-year-old with round glasses he met one afternoon on the playground. That child was a pest, no, a demon.

Vernon was sitting in the sand digging with a shovel, careful not to get his hands dirty. He was digging a small, deep hole. His goal was to dig the deepest hole he had ever dug, but not, of course, to dig to China. Vernon was clever enough to know such things were impossible.

The little monster ran up to Vernon with a freakish energy, and squatted next to the hole. His hair stuck up at all angles, as though he'd just been struck by lightning.

"Watcha digging?" the annoying boy asked. "Is it a grave? Because that's pretty scary, you know. You should build a castle instead."

Vernon did not like being told what to do. "It's a hole," he said angrily. He wanted the little freak to leave.

"Well, I know it's a hole, doofus. But what's it _for_?" The boy's tone was condescending, which was very strange coming from a four-year-old.

"I bet _you_ couldn't dig a hole this deep, you little creep." Vernon replied, hoping to get a rise out of the boy.

"I bet I could! Watch me." The boy put his tiny hand on the hole. Without even moving his hand, the hole tunneled deeper and deeper, until it reached the tarp at the bottom of the sand. The tarp ripped, and the hard earth started breaking. The boy laughed, his hazel eyes sparking.

Vernon shoved the boy. He stumbled, and when his hand left, the hole stopped tunneling. "Who do you think you are, freak?"

The four-year-old tossed his hair, grinning. "I am James Charlus Potter, king of this playground. All who pass here must answer to me."

Vernon growled. He wanted to pound this kid into the ground, but he was afraid. So he settled on saying: "Oh, yeah? Where's your posse, baby king?"

James put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Boys and girls of all ages ran up to him, grinning.

"Are we gonna play catch the Dark Lord, James? Are we? Are we?" a blonde boy even shorter than him shouted.

"Yeah, James. I want to be the bad guy," a tall girl with bushy brown hair begged.

"Of course. I promised we would, didn't I?" James shot a glance at Vernon. Vernon was sure he was about to insult him.

Instead, James chuckled, saying: "Wanna play catch the Dark Lord with us? It's more fun than digging holes."

Vernon blinked. What should he do? It did sound sort of fun, but if Marge saw him playing a game like that, he'd never hear the end of it. Catch the Dark Lord indeed.

"Nah, go play your baby game, Potter-freak."

James' eyes narrowed. "Fine, you fat, boring, Muggle. I will. And don't be surprised if I never ask you to play again."

The other children nodded in agreement. James seemed to be their leader, even if he was one of the smallest of the group.

Vernon abandoned his hole, wandering back to the picnic table where his mother sat, reading a gossip magazine, and Marge was entertaining the family bulldog.

"Mum, let's go. I never want to come back. These children are _freaks_."

His mother looked at the children, who were running and shouting as the bushy haired bared her teeth. "You're right, Vernon," she said. "Look at the stupid, wild lot of them. I don't know why we came in the first place."

The Dursley family stood up to leave, Marge dragging the dog by his leash. As they left, Vernon glanced back over his shoulder. Vernon Dursley felt nothing but disgust as his eyes met James Potter's.

If the look on the weirdo's face was any proof, the feeling was entirely mutual.

Neither of them remembered. Neither of them forgot.


End file.
